


B & E

by Porkchop_Sandwiches



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Breakfast, M/M, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches
Summary: Walt mentally added breaking and entering to the sizable list of things Jesse wasn’t quite adept at.Because among rudimentary listening skills, most likely age-appropriate reading comprehension, and in general not acting like a smartass at any opportunity, was now the ability to sneak back into his very own living room.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27
Collections: Blue Christmeth 2020





	B & E

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizwontcry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/gifts).



> This is for the prompt, "Jesse attempts to make breakfast for Walt the first time Walt spends the night at his house." It's set vaguely in late-ish 4th season.

Walt mentally added breaking and entering to the sizable list of things Jesse wasn’t quite adept at. 

Because among rudimentary listening skills, most likely age-appropriate reading comprehension, and in general not acting like a smartass at any opportunity, was now the ability to sneak back into his very own living room. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Jesse said. 

That was his third use of the word. He’d whacked his elbow on the frame of his papasan chair and dropped something that plopped down onto the hardwoods. From the crinkling noise of the plastic, Walt guessed it was vaguely in the grocery-family. Perhaps it was sausage. Or maybe Walt was just hungry. There was a phantom coffee smell that Walt may have been imagining as well. 

And while it was indeed dark inside, it was a far cry from pitch black. The curtains were parted and the blinds were filtering in the glow of streetlights as well as the one from Jesse’s front stoop. Just around the corner, his microwave had shown it was nearly six-thirty AM in red letters: little digital drops of blood that almost hurt his eyes once he’d looked at it long enough. 

Walt had been rummaging around in the kitchen for a while looking for coffee. He came up empty. He wandered into the living room. He stared at the shadowy silhouette of the futon until his eyes adjusted to the dark.

Why hadn’t he just gone home?

“ _ Son of a bitch.”  _

If the severity of the pain in his voice was any indication, Walt would have thought Jesse had just shattered his kneecap. 

“ _ Both  _ ends,” Walt said. “Most would realize where the coffee table was after hitting it the first time. I’m impressed.”

Jesse’s hiss of surprise was eerily feline _.  _ It made Walt think of the boy with his back arched beneath him in bed, those small almost-mewling sounds he made sometimes when Walt would finally touch him, rubbing the tip of Jesse’s cock in heavy, slow motions. Jesse was a sucker for a handjob. Many doors had been opened for Walt that way.

“What the fuck? Yo, why are you just...standing there in the dark like a fucking serial killer?”

Jesse flicked on the light and they both blinked against the harsh glare like a pair of bugs drawn to the same buzzing ball of self-destruction.

“You don’t have any,” Walt said.

“Any  _ what? _ " __

_ “ _ Cereal.”

Walt had to wait entirely too long for his wordplay to find its way inside Jesse’s head. As for the  _ outside  _ of his head, his buzz cut was still something Walt was getting used to. At least his  _ house  _ no longer looked like it belonged on skid row. While he wouldn’t admit it nor did he understand it, the new look actually worked for Jesse. It somehow brought out the color in his eyes more, which he was rolling at Walt.

“Man, it’s too early for your like dad-joke shit. Plus, I know I’m out of cereal. I went out to Albertson’s for groceries and stuff.”

The paint stains on his jeans matched his white shirt in a strange sort of way, and Walt figured there hadn’t been many people at the store at this hour. 

Walt nodded to the bags. “I can see that. Are you planning some sort of dinner party later today?”

“Uh.. _.no.  _ I was gonna make us breakfast.”

“Make  _ us _ breakfast?” 

Jesse had his eyes wide: two blue underwater glowing pool lights. He gestured to Walt with a handful of bags.

“Yeah dumbass, you and me.  _ Us _ . I was gonna...” He craned his neck to one side. “Bring it up to bed and shit. Have breakfast in bed together. You know, unless you want to bounce. Well, like probably _ after _ you put some fucking pants on.”

Walt didn’t miss the way Jesse winced after giving his bare legs a brief glance. But he figured it was mostly for show. And it wasn’t like Jesse hadn’t seen him in an undershirt and underwear on countless occasions.

“ _ Smart ass, _ " Walt said.

“Yeah, whatever. Yo, just don’t go like getting the newspaper like that, alright? After all the parties, I’m like  _ one  _ weird-shit-thing away from the HOA kicking me out. Speaking of which, some asshole broke my coffee maker. So, like here.”

He handed Walt a brown to-go cup that had been shrouded in grocery bags. It had a label from a shop he hadn’t heard of. 

And Jesse was very close to him for some reason. 

There was a bit of a standoff, this awkward hesitation, uncertainty, until Jesse pecked Walt on the mouth. 

“Good morning,” Walt said.

They were really bad at initiating any kissing when neither of them was already hard. But, Jesse snorted and may have made some snide comment about Walt’s breath as he passed by. 

He followed Jesse into the kitchen where more lights bathed the room in such stark contrast to the pre-sunrise gloom outside. Walt oddly enough thought of how grateful he was to not be up in preparation for another early morning commute to J.P. Wynne. And even more so that it was Saturday. 

The concept of Jesse making him breakfast in bed was equal parts flattering and... unnerving. They’d been having sex for maybe...a month or so? But last night was the first time Walt had stuck around. 

When he’d found himself in Jesse’s bed not too long ago, face against the boy’s pillow, sprawled out across the majority of the mattress, alone, he’d assumed he had made the wrong choice in staying: upset Jesse, spooked him, “got him freaked’ as Jesse might have said.

He sure as hell wasn‘t expecting post-coital room service. Or a coffee delivery. He sipped from his cup and was pleased to find it a pleasant medium roast.

Walt leaned back against the counter and realized he hadn’t even stepped foot in this room since all of the renovations: stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, and a light fixture above the island that looked sort of modern and industrial in a way that seemed it would have felt at home at whatever local coffee shop Jesse had been to this morning. Walt’s coffee was  _ really  _ good. And though maybe Jesse’s parents weren’t all that good at child-rearing, they had spruced the place up quite nicely.

He heard the clattering of pots and pans, and was surprised to see Jesse had a matching set of cookware --most likely from Walmart--and various ingredients spread out that weren’t pre-packaged and chock full of preservatives. There were no Funyuns or powdered mini donuts in sight. The stove was on for crying out loud.

“So, are you like half-a-pizza sober-you hungry or a-whole-fucking-pizza-and-three-dipping-sticks after-whiskey-you hungry?”

“You’re making pizza for breakfast?”

Jesse turned from the stove enough to scowl at him. “What do I look like? A Bagel Bite? No. I'm going classic: B and E.”

A fleeting thought of biting Jesse’s neck right then and there crossed Walt’s mind. Jesse seemed to love it, would press himself hard against Walt with a shudder he’d never own up to, and an erection he was only too happy to grind into Walt’s hip. He took another sip of coffee. There would be time for that later.

“B and E? As in breaking and entering?”

Jesse let his head drop back to stare at the ceiling. “No. Burt and Ernie. Yo, bacon and eggs!”

Walt raised his hands even though Jesse wasn’t looking at him. He could have sworn that Jesse’s moods were at times like the hormones of a teenage boy: one moment calm and the next bristly for no discernable reason. 

“When I was looking for coffee earlier, I saw that you had a waffle iron,” Walt said.

“Yeah, that thing’s got to be ancient. From the like ‘60s or something at best. It was my aunt’s.” He looked back at Walt with a sort of sheepish look. “I didn’t take you for a waffles kind of guy. Did...do you want waffles?”

Walt made a vague waving gesture and shook his head. “It’s been so long since I've had anything that wasn’t one of Junior’s Eggos, I’m not sure if I even remember what they taste like. What you’re doing is good.”

“Right on,” Jesse said. “You want to like sit down or something while I cook?”

Walt shook his head again.

And Jesse seemed to really size Walt up, as if assessing his sincerity on the matter before returning to the task at hand. The frying pan was already out. Walt could smell butter. He considered questioning Jesse’s logic in frying bacon in a pan of butter until the oven beeped. Jesse slid in a tray covered in strips of bacon. The warmth felt nice on Walt’s bare shins, and he stepped closer to the counter by Jesse, where he was cracking eggs.

And was that a spectacle.

Walt had yet to see the method of barely breaking the surface before jamming your thumbs in like Jesse was trying to gauge out an intruder’s eyes. There weren’t any shells in the pan. Walt could have gone without seeing Jesse wipe his hands off on the front of his blue jeans though. 

Jesse was on his third or fourth when the yoke managed to get more on his fingers than the pan.

“I’m guessing you didn’t exactly excel in home economics in high school?”

Jesse scoffed. “Yo, that class was a joke. My teacher, Mrs. Maywell, was like eighty years old. She used to read romance novels while we made shit like hot dogs and mac and cheese. Combo and I used to bake pot brownies and sell them out by the football field. What about you?”

“What about me?”

He was scrambling the eggs right in the pan. “Did you like...do well in home ec?”

“Oh. When I was in school, boys didn’t take home economics.”

“I forget you went to school in the Stone Age or whatever. Back when all women were supposed to like shut up and stay in the kitchen. And I guess when dudes didn’t learn basic house-shit ‘cause they thought they’d have a wife cleaning and cooking for them.”

Jesse’s voice trailed off, but Walt didn’t take any real offense. The sting of Skyler’s affair and their divorce was about as healed as Walt’s most recent black eye: he still had a little bruising, in both cases, but nothing critical.

“Be careful not to overco--”

“Yo, I know how you like your eggs: not too runny but not tough either, kind of fluffy.” He added a dash of cream from a pint of half and half and whisked it in with his fork. 

“And how exactly did you--”

“‘Cause you’ve said it like any time we hit up a diner or Denny’s or whatever. You know sometimes, I actually listen.”

Walt shrugged at Jess’s back and sipped his coffee. “You could have fooled me.”

Jesse snickered even though Walt knew it mostly to be a lie. He’d been making much more of an effort at the lab whenever he wasn’t off with Mike. He even seemed to be taking notes in the bedroom. Last night he’d given Walt the best head of his life: relaxing his throat this time and drooling a little as he nearly deep-throated him. His lips were beyond slick. There was a certain filthy appeal to a sloppy blowjob. 

“Hey, asshole. You never said how hungry you were. Is three eggs good for you?”

“Sure,” Walt said. 

Jesse nodded. He shifted the frying pan in one hand and used a spatula in the other. It seemed quiet without Jesse babbling or listening to his earbuds. But Jesse’s attention seemed entirely on frying these eggs to perfection. 

Walt, on the other hand, was content with just idly watching Jesse. Or he was until the coffee ran out. 

But then the oven was beeping again as Jesse carefully removed the tray of bacon that was practically glistening. He could make out Jesse’s reflection from the front of the microwave above the stove. Jesse had the tip of his tongue out to one side as he gently scooped a mound of eggs onto the plate before adding an enormous amount of bacon. He sprinkled two shakes of pepper and one of salt on the eggs, just as Walt preferred, before turning with the plate in hand.

Walt took it from him as Jesse passed him a fork. He stabbed a blob of egg and sampled what Jesse had been working so hard on. 

“Is it okay?” Jesse said.

Walt fanned at his partly open mouth. “Yes, it’s good. A little too hot. But, good. It’s good, Jesse. Very good.”

“Good.” Jesse was nodding with a kind of glazed look in his eyes. Maybe it had something to do with how Walt liked to use that particular word with his hand wrapped around the boy’s cock. “Well have at it, man. I’m not that hungry. We can sit at the futon if you want or like go upstairs.”

Walt set his plate down on the counter. 

“I think these need a minute.”

Walt wasn’t sure how his own expression was reading, but Jesse was looking somehow both smug and bashful simultaneously. 

He raised an eyebrow with a hand on the back of his neck. “Oh yeah? You got...got something else in mind, Mr. White?”

He had Jesse pinned in on both sides before he kissed him. And it was instantly frenzied: tongues and hands. The stovetop rattled loudly. It was probably even warmer than Walt’s cooling breakfast and Jesse’s balmy skin beneath his shirt where Walt’s palm was already exploring the curve of his pelvic bone. 

He didn’t want to burn Jesse, so it was only natural to move things against the refrigerator. And while Walt knew he’d been a part of a similar scenario, this was entirely different. They were chest to chest. Jesse’s legs were eagerly spread for him. He practically purred when Walt unzipped his jeans and slid his erection out from his boxers. 

“Good, Jesse. So wet for me.”

Walt thumbed the pre-come around the tip and loved watching Jesse hump his hand: hungry, greedy, eager. 

He tipped his head back against the door of the fridge. “ _ Shit. _ The fucking lube’s upstairs. Can we just...just like rub them together?”

“That’s a good idea, Jesse. I like that. Good, Jesse.”

Walt took his own cock out. He was so hard it was almost dizzying. Deliberately, he kept eye contact with Jesse as he smeared Jesse’s pre-come up and down his own shaft where Walt was dripping as well. Jesse licked his lips in a way that felt quite involuntary. As did his high-pitched squeak of pleasure as Walt wrapped his hands around the both of them.

Jesse began to hump into the deliciously slick friction. Their cocks were flush against each other. Jesse’s forehead found Walt’s shoulder.

“I know we...didn’t like invent this or whatever. But, I’m pretty sure we...like perfected this shit.” He moaned as Walt tightened his hands. “ _ Mr. White.” _

Jesse’s hands were beginning to tremble. Walt was surprised by how quickly Jesse seemed to be done in, never this sensitive in the evenings. He’d put a pin in that. 

Or he would when Jesse wasn’t spurting come, rocking his slender hips, panting and offering his neck up for Walt with a quivering Adam’s apple. 

Walt gently bit just above his collarbone as Jesse groaned and replaced Walt’s hands with his own bony ones. 

An image of Walt fucking Jesse into the fridge made Walt’s orgasm all the better. 

He came for what felt like an exceptionally long time for just a handjob, even shivering once Jesse moved away to clean Walt and then himself with a red checkered dishcloth. 

Walt tucked himself back in and made an attempt to catch his breath before returning to his breakfast. It was the perfect temperature. Walt preferred his eggs a touch too cool versus burning his tongue. 

He could see from the kitchen window that it was still black as night out. Walt thought he heard what may have been the paper delivered: a slow passing of a car at the front of the house and the soft  _ thwack  _ at the end of the driveway. 

“Sounds like the paper’s here,” Walt said.

Jesse hummed as he drank from a bottle of Mountain Dew he’d taken from the fridge while Walt practically inhaled the contents of his plate. And everything was indeed delicious: the eggs were fluffy and not too dense and the bacon was crispy yet not overdone. Jesse hadn’t skimped on the bacon either. Walt easily had eight or nine strips all to himself. No one had served him this much bacon in well...even the great establishment of Denny’s didn’t offer this kind of spread. Those were things Walt could have vocalized to Jesse. He was positive Jesse would enjoy hearing it. But, they’d have time for that later. 

He wiped his mouth and moved to walk out of the kitchen.

Jesse put his hand out. “Yo, you’re not really going out for the newspaper like that, are you?”

“I could. But, I thought I’d go get the lube.”

Jesse dropped his arm and nodded. “Oh, cool. Right on. I’ll...I’ll be right here.”

Walt walked through the living room towards the stairs and smiled. Staying had certainly paid off. 

  
  



End file.
